Viewer Guide for
A Most Unlikely Hero

A Most Unlikely Hero is more than the story of one person and one individual situation. It deals with issues that each of us face every day, and that too often are not easy to talk about. That's why this film was made--to move us to think about subjects like race, justice, and our responsibility to society, to spark a dialogue on these important topics, and to help us reflect on what they mean to our lives and our world. And, perhaps, even to inspire you to be a most unlikely hero in your own right.

Guide Contents

Getting Started with the Film

A Most Unlikely Hero is about the racism Bruce Yamashita encountered, what he decided to do about it, and his eventual victory. Along the way, he faced a series of decisions involving issues of ethics, social obligation and tradition, and individual responsibility.

Here are some general questions to keep in mind as you watch the film:

Two Roots of Racism
By Steven Laycock

Quick! Without looking in the mirror and without asking your friends...what color are your eyes? How do you know? Memory? You remember seeing your eyes in the mirror this morning? But your reflection is not YOU. How do you know that the color displayed in the reflection is the color of YOUR eyes?

Much of our sense of who we are, what we are and what we're worth is derived from the reactions of others. The eye cannot see itself...and cannot even see its own color. We rely on others for our self-image. The recognition of others fills an experiential gap that we cannot fill for ourselves.

One of the cruelest forms of punishment is ostracism...the deprivation of recognition. Those who are ostracized are deprived of self-image. They become "no one," and wander like ghosts with no sense of identity. And one of the greatest forms of compassion is a simple, positive recognition of the other.

If someone describes the color of our eyes, that's a fact. If the fact is accompanied by a judgment of value, our sense of our own worth and value may be shaken or enhanced.

Judgments of personal value often vary with the perception of difference. The assumption is that if your eyes are different from mine, you cannot know what it's like to be who and what I am. You cannot fill the experiential gap created by my own inability to see myself. Your perception misses the mark, so you have no right to look at me. You then become an object--something to be seen, but not, for me, a source of value with a right to your own perceptions.

And of course, if you are nothing more than an object, then you have no genuine human value. You are there to be manipulated and controlled, to labor, produce and serve. You are there to be seen, but not to see.

This is one of the roots of racism: the assumption that difference precludes empathy, that because you are different, you cannot understand me, cannot know what it's like to be me, and thus that your regard is of no value in the constitution of my self-image. Your perception is immaterial. The way you see me does not matter, and more generally, the way you see the world does not matter. For me, you become unseeing and objectified.

The second root of racism is almost the precise inverse. Instead of being taken as precluding genuine empathy and understanding, difference is swept aside (as "indifferent") and an all-too-facile identification is forged which conditions two forms of negative regard:

First, since your difference is swept aside as immaterial, I am not able to find beauty and value in your difference. My world is not enriched by your difference. So the difference you bring to the world is not enriching, but valueless. Difference is not appreciated and enjoyed for its own sake, but is rather drained of significance and value. In being different, you have no value.

And second, since difference presents no impedance to empathy and understanding, I can then paternalistically assume that I know what's best for you. And this lends itself to forms of control and paternalistic domination.

To uproot the two roots of racism would be to enjoy, appreciate and value the differences of others, to affirm the possibility of empathy across difference and never to substitute our own understanding for the self-understanding of others. The other would always be a "question mark," and our relationship to this "open question" would always be one of receptivity and openness.

The phenomenon of "race" may have no basis in genetics or biology, and may not belong to the domain of "facts" at all. "Race" may be a very different phenomenon from describable physical differences. It may be a social construct. And if so, we need to question the motivation and behind this construct, its role and social purpose. The simple perception of difference is not yet racism. Racism concerns the difference that difference makes.

While the country as a whole gives lip-service to the ideal of the cultural "melting pot," Hawai`i is unique in actually being a remarkable confluence of diverse ethnic populations. There are no "minorities" in Hawai`i, since there is no ethnic "majority."

Still, is the "rainbow perception" that we have of ourselves an idealization or a reality? And even if our insular community turned out to be a Shangri-la, free from the claws of racism that lacerate the rest of the country, we would still need to understand racism as such.

What are the historical, political and cultural forces that motivate racial discrimination? Is any value, aesthetic, ethical or cultural to be served in the maintenance of "racial purity"? Or is humanity significantly benefited by convergence upon the "ethnic soup" that we, in Hawai`i, call being "local"?

Is race an inescapable physical, biological, genetic determination, or an arbitrary social construct that selects a certain range of human features as the basis of differential treatment? Is race a "fact" or a cultural "value," positive or negative? Is racism the simple recognition of difference or a willingness to allow difference to determine a differential allocation of social benefits? Is racism the confusion of the "fact" of race with a value or dis-value? Or is there no genuine "fact" of race at all? And if it is a confusion, is the confusion merely cognitive and intellectual, or is it the product of the will?

STEVEN LAYCOCK teaches philosophy at Leeward Community College near Honolulu, Hawai'i. His published work includes "Nothingness and Emptiness: A Buddhist Engagement with the Philosophy of Jean-Paul Sartre," and "Mind as Mirror and the Mirroring of Mind."

"Being born and raised in Hawai'i, where we were in the Asian Pacific majority, didn't prepare me for the real blatant discrimination and racism.

"In elementary school, when they were having the March on Washington, Martin Luther King's civil rights marches, for us in Hawai'i it was awfully far away. It wasn't something we could relate to.

"When I went off to law school in Washington, D.C., it was a reality. In Constitutional Law, you had the great issues and debates on constitutional law, busing and segregation, and I really did feel like a spectator. And even the school, you had the Asian Pacific American association, BALSA--the Black Student Association, Hispanics, all these groups.

"I must say I sort of saw them as being kind of strange and odd and whiners and complainers."

--Bruce Yamashita, from "A Most Unlikely Hero"

The Rainbow Perception

As he says in the film, Bruce felt he was part of a majority population in Hawai`i (even though no one ethnic group is large enough to constitute a "majority" in the conventional sense). And that, he says, caused problems when he left Hawai`i for school and for the Marines.

Diversity as a Core Value

"In this new millennium what we have is a technicolor world. Which means that Asian Americans have to understand their debt to African Americans, to Latino Americans, people who blazed the civil rights path so Asian Americans could get a measure of equal dignity and equality.

At the same time, of course, White America has to be educated and taught lessons again and again about what it means to treat people as less than human.

I think this process of education is an ongoing process. But again, it's not a process just for White America, it's a process for all of us to understand that we really have to accept and embrace diversity as a core value of this country.

--Dale Minami, Civil Rights Attorney, from "A Most Unlikely Hero"

The Nature of Prejudice

The social scientist, Gordon Alport, set up four conditions that facilitate stereotyping, racial slurs, or prejudice.

He said first, the condition is you're one of a kind. Bruce was a Japanese American, the only Asian American in his unit.

Second, you have authority figures that either condone prejudicial behavior or in this case, they engaged in it.

Third, there was a norm that evolved. When people saw Yamashita, especially the drill instructors, they would call him names, racial kinds of things.

And fourth, the other candidates were in a highly competitive situation. They had to rate each other as to how well they were performing. So it's very easy under these circumstances to rate Bruce low, because everyone attacked him. Now, once fellow candidates started doing this to Bruce, the drill instructors feel even more justified in singling him out.

So you have this vicious, what I call a tainting of the well. It just goes around and around. And I think that this is what happened to Bruce Yamashita.

--Stanley Sue, Ph.D. University of California-Davis

--Dale Minami

The Unlikely American
by Joe Johnson

What is it to be 'American', not objectively in terms of citizenship, but rather subjectively in the sense that one identifies with what the United States symbolizes, even if imperfectly? It may be said that there is no one thing that unites the consciousnesses of all citizens, that there are only collections of partially overlapping sets of memories, values, and ideals. Even so, some things are arguably more shared and central to our psyches than others. Among these is the belief, true or not, that there is such a thing as justice, that this is attainable, and that our system is among the bestÏthough not infallibly soÏin achieving this.

Of course it is possible for a citizen of the United States to have reservations about identifying with 'America' in this sense, taking a cynical view of the gap between reality and ideology. Often, however, the reservations themselves express the highest values of what the United States is supposed to stand for.

The story of Bruce Yamashita is suggestive here. Bruce had every right to become cynical about the idea of being 'American'. In fact, some people even told him that he was not. He, however, persisted in his quest for the justice that society promises but does not always give. Paradoxically, it is only through the successful struggles of such heroes that it is possible for any of us to maintain the beliefs that make us into what some people said Bruce was not.

JOE JOHNSON has an M.A. in philosophy from the University of Wisconsin--Madison, and a Ph.D. from the University of Tsukuba, Japan. He is a lecturer at Leeward Community College near Honolulu.

Considering Heroism

The public safety workers in New York and Washington on September 11, 2001 are hailed as heroes. The World War II veterans of the 442nd RCT and the 100th Batallion are hailed as heroes. Nelson Mandela is hailed as a hero.

Different situations, vastly different individuals, different times. Here are some questions to consider:

· What does it take to be a hero? Under what circumstances does heroism occur?

· Is heroism a choice? What personal qualities might predispose someone to be a hero, or to take heroic action?

· Are there limits to heroism? If so, are they social, cultural, or individual and personal?

On Heroism
By Robin Fujikawa

Ordinarily, a hero needs a villain to vanquish, but must it always be that heroism implies antagonism and discord? As the present world yearns for an end to discord, we may need to abandon heroism as an ideal--unless, of course, we can cherish heroism in non-relative terms.

This becomes possible if we re-think the hero as not literally a person, but as symbol of a process. Our search for a non-relative conception of the hero might benefit from the example of the ancient Hawaiian way of solving problems, ho`oponopono, literally, making right. At the very outset of this community ceremony, before accusations and vilification could arise, there was the practice of mutual forgiveness. This was ritualized by everyone partaking of a bit of a plant from the sea called limu kala, the symbol of forgiveness. The gathering then dealt with the problem as a family would, leaving no one vilified.

Viewed in this way, Bruce Yamashita may be seen as a hero, that is, as symbol of the process of making right. But first, we need to see ourselves as family.

ROBIN FUJIKAWA is a professor of philosophy and religion at Kapiolani Community College. He has a master's degree in Buddhist studies from Higashi Hongwanji University in Kyoto, and master's and doctoral degrees in Asian philosophy from the University of Hawai'i.

More Than One "Unlikely Hero"
By John Wythe White

"Yamashita vs. Goliath: Why one guy from Honolulu took on the U.S. Marines" was the cover story in the December 15, 1993 issue of the Honolulu Weekly. The author was Stephen Okino, director of the film "A Most Unlikely Hero."

I was the Weekly's editor at the time, and had known Steve for about three years. We met when I was hired as creative director of a large Honolulu public relations firm where Steve was working. He was unhappy there, and left about six months after I arrived to seek more soul-satisfying work. Shortly after he quit, so did I--for identical reasons. Partners in disillusionment and fellow freelancers, we became--and remain--good friends.

So I have known about Bruce Yamashita's story for more than ten years. I goaded Steve into writing his story for the Weekly. I think that what initially struck me about it was the fact that, because Bruce grew up in Hawai`i, he was not prepared for the racial discrimination he was subjected to in the Marines. It made me so much more appreciative of my chosen home.

It's important to know that Steve Okino was involved with Bruce Yamashita's quest long before he made a film (and helped Bruce write a book) about it. He was instrumental in generating nationwide publicity for the case at a crucial time in its development. And yet he has never claimed credit for his contributions.

I mention these things because I'm writing this piece at Steve's request. "Include your personal thoughts on leadership, heroism and courage," he suggested. The more I mulled over these traits, the more I associated them not only with Bruce but with Steve--and with the many others who were involved in Bruce's lengthy struggle.

Bruce and Steve and others (e.g. the board of directors of the Honolulu chapter of the Japanese American Citizens League, including attorney Clayton Ikei, who handled the legal case) worked long hours with no monetary compensation and against overwhelming odds for a cause they believed in. They could have been making decent money doing something else--something with a far greater chance for a successful outcome. But walking away from this cause was not an option for them.

Bruce was alone for a long time, both during his ordeal at Officer Candidate School and afterwards, when most of his friends told him to give up, let go, drop it. But he refused to take the easy way out, and after a while he was no longer alone. He had a team of volunteers who helped him on the rest of his difficult journey.

I ask myself, what kind of personal qualities would it take for me to sacrifice a substantial portion of my personal life--some of my work and the income it generates, some of my time with my wife, some of my leisure-time indulgences--to fight, without public recognition or financial gain, for the cause of another person?

That kind of commitment takes both courage and heroism. As for leadership, anyone who has worked in a non-corporate, non-structured, not-for-profit, volunteer effort knows that everyone involved must be able to take charge in some fashion--otherwise, nothing happens. Without a doubt, Steve and the others who helped Bruce fight his battle are also heroes.

JOHN WYTHE WHITE is a freelance writer with 25 years of experience in journalism, travel writing, video production and advertising copywriting. He received his bachelor's degree from Stanford University and a master's degree from U.C.L.A.

Why The Film Was Made
By Steve Okino

I first met Bruce Yamashita in 1990, when he came to the Honolulu Chapter of the Japanese American Citizens League for help with his situation at Marine Officer Candidate School. Over the next five years, I grew to know him well, saw firsthand the personal sacrifices he made to forge ahead with his commitment to fairness and equal opportunityãnot for himself alone, but for future generations of Americans. It was an inspiring experience, and it became apparent there were important lessons to be learned from what Bruce went through, and what he did about it.

Unfortunately, we rarely hear about such stories of commitment and courage. That made it even more important to try and make sure Bruce's story was told.

Like Bruce's case, the film "A Most Unlikely Hero" began as little more than an idea. It took the sacrifice and dedication of a small group of people--just like Bruce's case--to turn the idea into reality. Along the way, we learned a great deal about the world and about ourselves. That's why two particular lessons stand out:

First, we learned to overcome the biggest challenge. Not the fear of failure, but, as is so often quoted, that we each are "powerful beyond measure." And that despite the obstacles, the goal can be reached. And second, a lesson Bruce himself taught us during his case and afterward. That you don't need a degree from an Ivy League school, or a position of power and prestige...that you don't have to come from wealth and privilege (or even marry into them)...that you don't need the right job and the right car and the house in the right neighborhood. But what you do need is the belief in an ideal, a vision, and the courage to carry it out. With that, you can indeed make a difference, and make change in the world.

And most importantly, each one of us is capable of doing it.

So we all can be an unlikely hero. In these times, that's what the world needs. I hope that lesson comes across in our film.

Steve Okino directed, produced, and wrote A Most Unlikely Hero

Now and the Future

Looking back years later, what did I learn?

I learned about the power of commitment, the strength of a community standing together, and the need for us to understand one another.

Standing up for the ideals that are the foundation of America is crucial. But many times, it's not easy.

And in these times of crisis, of insecurity, of vulnerability, the price can be even higher.

So like they told me again and again, it's easier to just ignore it, just move on.

But like I learned, true patriotism isn't taking the easy way out, or going along with the crowd. That's understandable in these times.

But now more than ever, this nation can't afford for good people to remain silent.

--Bruce Yamashita

For a printable version of this guide, download it as a PDF file here.

Support for this publication was provided by the Hawai`i Council for the Humanities and the Spark Matsunaga Charitable Foundation.

Air travel consideration for educational outreach is provided by American Airlines.

Contributors: Steven Laycock, Robin Fujikawa, Joe Johnson, John Wythe White, Momi Kamahele, Gailynn Williamson

©2004 Steve Okino

For further information about A Most Unlikely Hero, visit our website at unlikelyhero.org, or contact:
A Most Unlikely Hero
94-1263 Lumikula St. Suite 2/B
Waipahu, HawaiÕi 96797
email: producer@unlikelyhero.org